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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579194">Wielder of the Lover's Pen</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudita/pseuds/mudita'>mudita</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Miraculous Ladybug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drama, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:50:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579194</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mudita/pseuds/mudita</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alya gets a chance to interview Chat Noir for the Ladyblog. When one interview turns into several, Alya gets to know more and more about Paris' sweet-talking superhero and the boy beneath the mask.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir &amp; Alya Césaire, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Alya Césaire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. on the wings of opportunity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alya sat at her computer desk, chewing on the end of her pen, blank sheets of paper in front of her as she tried to focus. School was cutting into her time in running the </span>
  <span>Ladyblog</span>
  <span> and it was starting to frustrate her. Currently, the </span>
  <span>Ladyblog</span>
  <span> hadn’t updated in almost two months and Alya felt guilty for letting it go by the wayside. It was a genuinely enjoyable past time of hers, not to mention the fact that she had garnered a pretty good number of followers since it started. She had informed her followers that she would be going on a brief hiatus until schoolwork slowed down, but Alya didn’t know how long that would be, and there was also the fact that nothing of particular interest was happening concerning Paris’ two superheroes. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The occasional </span>
  <span>akuma</span>
  <span> attack was mostly covered by the news, and by the time everything was back to normal, there really wasn’t anything new for Alya to talk about. She was never able to nab an interview with Ladybug or Chat Noir, she couldn’t even snap a picture most times. Whenever she got close, there was always a throng of people vying for their attention. They left so quickly that Alya often went home devoid of any new material for the blog. The only major change had been the fact that she was gifted a miraculous of her own and fought alongside Ladybug and Chat as Rena Rouge. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span> It was incredibly exciting, taking down </span>
  <span>akuma’s</span>
  <span> alongside her two biggest idols. While Alya was still a newbie when it came to the ins and outs of being a proper superhero, she soaked up any opportunity to be as close to them as possible. Secretly, Alya wished to have a conversation with one of them about the job, even if it was only for a few moments, but Ladybug was all business when it came to defeating Hawkmoth. Alya didn’t want to disappoint her and she wanted to prove herself worthy of defending Paris, so Alya never really prodded for any extra details or stories. She also didn’t think Ladybug would appreciate any information she indulged to </span>
  <span>her getting</span>
  <span> onto the </span>
  <span>Ladyblog</span>
  <span>. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Alya was stuck. She had spent the better half of an hour trying to come up with something new to post on her blog, but she was coming up dry. The papers in front of her remained frustratingly blank save for a couple of random doodles and it </span>
  <span>was</span>
  <span> pretty apparent she wouldn’t be writing an article any time soon. Alya sighed, putting down her pen and pushing away from her desk. She had done all of her homework for the day and scrolling through her phone was getting boring. Alya flopped onto her bed, fishing out her phone from underneath the covers. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When in doubt, text Marinette. It was a sure-fire way of whittling away the hours until dinnertime. As Alya’s phone chirped with replies, she spared a brief glance at her desk and felt that same surge of despondency she had been feeling for the past two months. Alya pushed that feeling down immediately, she was going to get an interview with one of them, no matter how long it took. She just needed another chance. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As fate would have it, her chance came the very next week. Wednesday was beautiful, and </span>
  <span>Juleka</span>
  <span> had invited them all over her house after school. A small homework club had formed within the class, and sessions rotated between different houses each week. Wednesday was </span>
  <span>Juleka’s</span>
  <span>, and she had been preparing for it for a few days now. It was a pretty fun way to finish essays and math questions, and it also left time for them to come up with new designs for Kitty Section or just hanging out together. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya knew how much </span>
  <span>Juleka</span>
  <span> was looking forward to having everyone come over. She had come out of her shell a lot over the course of the year, and she was eager to be a good host. It was an important moment for her, and Alya couldn’t wait. Spending time on </span>
  <span>Juleka’s</span>
  <span> boat house sounded ten times better than just going straight home and doing homework in her own bedroom, anyway. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once school let out, Alya was busy texting Rose. Rose had wanted Alya and Marinette to bring some baked goods from the bakery to Juleka’s study session. Marinette’s parents had incredible baking skills, and each new pastry Marinette brought over for the class was an instant hit. Alya had begged Marinette to bake macaroons and bring them along, they were too delicious to pass up. That, coupled with Sabine’s raspberry danishes, made for a dessert that had Alya’s mouth watering just thinking about it. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Since Alya would be stopping by Marinette’s to grab the macaroons and danishes, she told the others to go ahead without her to </span>
  <span>Juleka’s</span>
  <span> house. As the group dispersed, Alya adjusted her bookbag on her shoulders and crossed the street. She had tried to spot Marinette on the way out of school, but for some reason she couldn’t find her. Alya sent Marinette a quick text as she walked to the bakery, thinking that perhaps she should stop by a </span>
  <span>convenience</span>
  <span> store and pick up some chips along the way...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bell on the door to the </span>
  <span>Tom &amp; Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie</span>
  <span> jingled a merry tune as Alya entered. The smell of bread and flour hit her nose instantly, and Alya smiled. Walking into the bakery always felt like home, in a strange way. It was always warm and the cheery air it exuded made Alya want to stay just a little bit longer than she was supposed to. She couldn’t remember how many times she had missed curfew when it came to spending time in Marinette’s house. Her own home was so hectic and loud that being around the Dupain-Cheng's was refreshing. It was a different kind of busy that Alya relished in. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alya!” Sabine greeted her, her apron dusted with flour as she balanced a tray of muffins in a pair of oven-mitted hands. “It’s good to see you!” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Mrs. Sabine.” Alya said politely. “Can I give you a hand?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, that’s alright.” Sabine set the tray down and took off her oven mitts. “It’s been a while since we last saw you. School must be pretty busy this time around, huh?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Alya shrugged good naturedly. “Exams are coming up, so I’ve been cramming like crazy.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re a smart girl, I’m sure you’ll pass with flying colors.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya smiled. If only her mother had that much confidence in her. “Thanks, Mrs. Sabine. Is Marinette here? We were supposed to grab some stuff for the study session today.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marinette told me about that, but she isn’t here. I’m actually not sure where she went.” Sabine took a brief glance at the clock hanging on the nearest wall. “But knowing her, she probably got sidetracked. Here, let me grab the boxes.” She disappeared to the back of the bakery, and Alya leaned against the counter. She checked her phone and found a text from Marinette. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hey! I stopped at the library to check out a book. I’ll see you soon!</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made sense, Alya reasoned. She had been to the library herself a few times to go over the most important topics for the exams. They swapped notes from time to time, but cracking open a book never hurt either. Just as Alya was about to send a reply, there was a strange rumbling underneath her feet. The pots hanging from the wall jostled and her head shot up from her phone. Glancing out the window, Alya could see a dust cloud rise into the sky. Cars and </span>
  <span>passerby's</span>
  <span> had stopped to observe it and Alya felt her eyes widen. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>An </span>
  <span>akuma</span>
  <span> attack. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get the food later, Mrs. Sabine!” Alya called, slipping her phone into her back pocket. “I </span>
  <span>gotta</span>
  <span> go!” she raced out the front door before Marinette’s mother could reply, sprinting in the direction of the explosion. From the looks of it, it was pretty far, but Alya was a fast runner. If she could make it there in time, maybe she could help out Ladybug and Chat Noir. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And maybe, just maybe, she could get her interview. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Racing to the </span>
  <span>akuma</span>
  <span> attack had taken a long time. There was a major traffic jam and crowds of people that made it difficult to cross streets. Police had already set up perimeters and blocked off the scene. By the time Alya even got close, it looked as if everything was already over. Disappointment surged in her stomach, mingled with exhaustion from her non-stop run, and Alya was left sweaty and breathless as she stood by the police cars. She placed her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath before she collapsed. She really needed to start working out more, she hadn’t had to run like that in a while...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya straightened up, fixing her glasses. Craning her neck, she could see Ladybug and Chat Noir’s distant figures by the museum. They were busy comforting the </span>
  <span>akumatized</span>
  <span> victim while the emergency responders looked after him. Alya bit her lip, if she didn’t act now, she’d never get her chance!</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me.” Alya went up to a portly police man, flashing him her best smile. “Can I get by, please?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No civilians past this area.” the police officer answered her gruffly. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But...I’m a reporter!” Alya said, looking past him to keep an eye on Ladybug and Chat Noir. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The policeman gave her a skeptical glance, narrowing his eyes at her. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> a reporter? You seem a little young.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s true.” she replied, giving him her most confident stare. Inwardly, she was praying he wouldn’t ask to see some sort of I.D., she’d be so embarrassed if she had to pull out her school identification card in front of him and all these people...</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The policeman crossed his arms, his expression now going from patronizing to irritated. “Could I see some I.D. to back that up?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Damn! Alya’s confident expression was crumbling and she groped desperately for some sort of excuse. “Well...I mean...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Step out of the way, ma’am, or go on home. I’m too busy right now to deal with school children.” he turned his back to her, pulling out a walkie-talkie from the depths of his uniform pants pocket. Alya felt her face grow hot and she quickly turned away, slipping through the crowd and pointedly ignoring the snickers from a few people. Once she was fully away from the crowd, Alya quickly sprinted to the other side of the perimeter gate. If asking wasn’t going to do it, then she’d just find her own way through. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission, after all. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya took a few glances around the street to make sure no one was paying attention to her. She secured her bookbag more tightly on her shoulders before bracing herself. She took a small running start and in one fluid movement, jumped onto the perimeter gate and kicked off, landing on her feet. It took barely a minute, but Alya’s heart was jumping as if she had expertly pulled off a break-in. This was the most she had ever done to get a simple interview, and Alya couldn’t bear it if she had gone to all this trouble only to end up empty-handed. Not wasting a second, Alya ran towards the museum. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Already, she could see that Ladybug had left, and something akin to panic spiked within her. She was so close! The </span>
  <span>akumatized</span>
  
  <span>vicitim</span>
  <span> was being led away by the emergency responders, leaving only a few police officers. a news anchor and camera man behind. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” Alya called, not caring about being seen anymore. Chat Noir’s ears flicked to the sound of her voice and he turned around just as she came up to him. Alya heaved a sigh of relief, legs burning as she stopped. She took several deep breaths, hoping that she didn’t appear too sweaty and gave him an exhausted smile. “H...Hey..!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Chat Noir said, amused. “You’re Alya, right?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Alya nodded, wiping at her forehead. It felt so strange, talking to him like this when she fought side by side with him on occasion. “If you have time, would you be interested in--”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span><em>“Hold it!”</em> a new voice emerged and Alya gulped. A police woman was giving her a stern look. “Civilians can’t be here, how did you get past the perimeter?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh goodness. Alya had convinced herself that she didn’t care about being caught, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>really, but the thought of getting escorted off the property by the authorities made her a little afraid. If they went so far as to drive her back home, Alya was certain she’d grounded until she graduated. It also wouldn’t look too good if she got in trouble with the police and ended up at the police station. Before she could even think of an excuse, Chat Noir had held up a hand. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, don’t worry about her. She's fine.” he said. The policewoman glanced between him and Alya.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even so, there are strict rules about people entering a crime scene. It’s against the law for...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have to pardon her.” Chat Noir purred, voice sweet and silky. “We’ve met before, she’s a reporter and I’m afraid she just got a little overzealous this time. Right, Alya?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave her a look and Alya nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be sure to walk her home, ma’am.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The policewoman gave Alya another stern look before eventually nodding, looking none too happy as she walked off. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Alya breathed. “I was hoping, if it’s not too much trouble, could I get an interview with you?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir’s ears flicked (Alya found that oddly cute), and he glanced about him. “Uh, well, Ladybug already left, so...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay!” Alya pressed on eagerly. “I can always interview her later.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, Chat Noir appeared flummoxed, as if the thought of being interviewed without Ladybug didn’t even occur to him. That wasn’t totally surprising. Whenever they did get interviewed by a major news station, they were always together. “You really want an interview with just me?” he asked, and Alya smiled. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! I’d love it!” Alya took her phone out of her pocket. “What time and day works best for you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, uh...well...how about next week? Friday afternoon...at five?” Chat Noir said, and Alya quickly tapped the date into her phone. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds great.” she agreed, her smile fit to bursting. She could barely contain her excitement. An interview! Finally! “Would you be okay with having the interview at my house? Or would you prefer somewhere more private?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your house sounds fine.” Chat Noir placed an arm around her shoulders and steered her away. “I’m always down for some quality time with a pretty lady. Just promise me you won’t break any laws the next time you want an interview.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya gave an embarrassed laugh, biting her lip. “Deal.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of taking her home, Alya gets Chat Noir to take her back to the bakery. By the time they get there, Alya sees Marinette by the door holding a plastic bag—no doubt the sweets that Mrs. Sabine was getting before Alya ran off. They’re a block away before Chat Noir’s ring gives several impatient beeps. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looks like our time together is up.” Chat Noir says apologetically. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is far enough, Chat. Thank you.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He winks and extends his baton, leaping away and out of view. Alya watches him vault over rooftops and grow smaller in the distance before she runs across the street to meet Marinette.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Alya! I’m sorry for hold up.” Alya reaches over to take Marinette’s book bag off her shoulders and carries it for her.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about that.” said Alya eagerly. “Let’s get going, I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much to tell you!”</span>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. the space between</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alya had been bursting with excitement for the better part of the week. It was hard to keep herself from telling nearly everyone she knew about her upcoming interview with Chat Noir. She had divulged her encounter with him to Marinette on the way to </span>
  <span>Juleka’s</span>
  <span> house and spent every day after school coming up with questions. She had gone to the library and did some research of her own, trying to conjure up probing questions that would get Chat Noir interested and talking for as long as possible. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Friday drawing ever closer, Alya had a hard time focusing on schoolwork. Marinette had caught her spacing out twice when they were supposed to be writing essays and had to keep snapping her fingers in front of Alya’s face to bring her back down to Earth. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll never get finished if you keep daydreaming.” Marinette teased kindly. “I’m the one that usually has trouble focusing here.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just nervous about my interview with Chat Noir.” Alya admitted. It was Wednesday, and they had been sitting in her room, the both of them laying haphazardly on her bed. Alya knew her bed really wasn’t big enough for both her and Marinette to lay in comfortably, but they had long since forgoed any sort of comfort when it came to things like sharing seats, trading food and the like, being close to each other was what mattered most. As such, Marinette’s leg was entangled with hers, and they occasionally bumped shoulders as they looked over notes for their essay. “I only have three questions, and they’re so boring! I went to so much trouble to finally speak to him, I don’t want our interview to be over in a few short minutes because I can’t think of anything interesting to ask him!”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alya, you’re one of the best writers in our class. Journalism is in your blood, you’ll do great.” Marinette was scrolling through her phone. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Help me pick out an outfit.” Alya declared suddenly, untangling her leg from Marinette and climbing off the bed. Papers and pens jostled as she did so, and Marinette’s hand darted out to grab her notebook before it fell to the floor.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about our essay?” Marinette asked, though she was already sitting up and pushing her papers aside. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That can wait for a minute.” Alya headed to her closet and thrust the doors open. She rummaged through her clothes, pushing back hangers and moving coats out of the way. She began to pluck item after item from her closet, tossing them onto the bed. Marinette arranged them neatly, school work all but forgotten. “I was thinking of wearing something smart, </span>
  <span>y’know</span>
  <span>? Like a pencil skirt or something, and a nice blouse. But it’s not like we’re going to be in a public space somewhere, the interview is going to be here. So.</span>
  <span>..maybe</span>
  <span> something more relaxed? I have some cute sweaters.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm.” Marinette climbed off Alya’s bed and began to pick through her clothes. “Smart is fine, but you’re right, you might want to go for something a bit more casual since you’ll be in your room the whole time.” she paused for a moment; hip cocked as her eyes roamed over Alya’s bed. “This red collared sweater is nice, if you wear it over top this polka dot blouse and wear some jeans, it’ll look really cute.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about this?” Alya pulls out a purple argyle sweater vest. “I’ve only worn this once.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good! See if you can find a skirt.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya digs into her closet and locates a skirt. When she turns around, Marinette is rifling through her drawers and pulls out a headband. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, if you wear this, you can pull of a boarding school look. I think that would look good on you.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They spend the next few minutes mixing and matching outfits before they finally decide on a perfect look. Alya hangs her outfit up and carefully places it in the closet, reminding herself to iron her pants beforehand. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t wait for this!” Alya said, her stress from earlier fading into excitement. “I just hope I’ll be able to focus. Chat Noir is as hot up close as he is from afar.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Alya!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Marinette exclaims, voice pitched several octaves higher than normal. She places her face in her hands and Alya quirks an eyebrow. She looked like she was having some sort of panic attack. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Was that weird?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Marinette pulls her hands away, her face is carnation pink and flustered. There’s a strange, pinched expression on her face that Alya can’t decipher for the life of her. “You can’t just say that!” she squeaks. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s true.” Alya smiles, giving her a coy look. “Besides, I’m pretty sure nearly every single teenage girl in Paris is thinking the same thing.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still.” Marinette protests weakly, fanning her face. “It’s weird.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Mari. A leather clad superhero with a cat motif? That’s boyfriend material if there ever was one.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Marinette takes one of Alya’s throw pillows and aims it at her head. “I’ve never heard you talk like that before.” she laughs, as Alya easily ducks out of the way. “Come on, let’s finish this paper.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thursday has Alya practically floating. She gets an ‘A’ on her essay and Rose had suggested they all hang out at her house after school. Nowadays, Alya treasures the time she spends with her friends once school is out. Cramming for exams and babysitting in between has her exhausted and craving for anything even remotely fun, and when the final bell rings, Alya races to her locker. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She switches out her books, puts the appropriate binders and papers in her bag before closing her locker and heading off. Marinette won’t be walking home with her today, she had to race home to help her parents with the bakery, but promised to text her later on. Alya heads out the front door of the school, soaking up the sun as she glides down the steps. She has just enough money in her purse for a chocolate milkshake that’s been on her mind all day, and she heads to the sidewalk....</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>…. only</span>
  <span> to walk backwards towards the steps. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adrien is sitting there, looking so gloomy that Alya is surprised how easily she breezed past him. There’s a defined slump in his shoulders, his bookbag resting by his feet.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Adrien?” Alya says, and he looks up. Yeah, there was definitely something wrong with him. “Is.</span>
  <span>.. everything</span>
  <span> okay? Why are you just sitting here?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um,” he responds, and doesn’t answer for another moment or two. He looks like he’s struggling to get the words out. Finally, he shrugs. “I’m just waiting for my driver to take me home.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like your world is ending.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives another shrug, and Alya steps fully in front of him. “Okay, Agreste, what’s wrong?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Adrien pulls his mouth in, eyebrows furrowed in what was either concentration or sadness, Alya couldn’t tell which. There was a glint in his eyes, and for a terrifying moment, Alya thinks he might start crying. He doesn’t, thankfully, and meets her gaze instead. “You guys are going over Rose’s today, right?” he asks, and Alya gives him a slow nod.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she said, as if it were obvious. “you’re going too, remember?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have fencing practice today.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya’s own eyebrows are bunching together. “Fencing?” she remarks, as if he told her he did jazzercise or something equally unexpected. Did she know that? Alya searches her memory. Marinette had Adrien’s entire schedule written down, memorized and occasionally updated (something that Alya found creepy to a degree, but Mari was her best friend, so she kept her judgements to herself). Marinette often told Alya about Adrien’s schedule, mapping out possible times when he was available so they could hang out together. Alya knows he played piano and a variety of other lessons, but this is the first she’s hearing about his fencing practice. “Well, you’ll still be able to come over, right?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so. Father knows about the upcoming exams, and he really wants me to study as much as possible.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t he know you have study sessions with the rest of us? I mean, we were all over </span>
  <span>Juleka’s</span>
  <span> house just last week.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, something flickers across Adrien’s face and stays there. It’s hurt, Alya realizes. “Alya, I haven’t been to a single study session with you guys since last month.” his voice is quiet, but the embarrassment is laden thick. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” she breathes, feeling shocked and confused. “But...I was certain...” Alya stops talking once the expression on Adrien’s face grows from gloomy to downright melancholy. The air is so tense and thick around them that it’s practically smothering them both. When, exactly, was the last time she saw Adrien after school? She knew about his strict father and the many rules he had to comply with, but there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>way it’s been a month since she last hung out with him. That was...ridiculous. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she thinks back to last week, something solidifies in her stomach. She can’t see Adrien’s face anywhere in that memory, and as she thinks further back, Alya realizes that Adrien was right. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>been a month since he was around the rest of his classmates.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Alya whispers, swallowing. “I’m sorry, Adrien. I guess I...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t even notice you weren’t there. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he interrupts, grabbing his book bag and standing up. He offers her a flimsy smile, and his green eyes are so sad that she can barely hold his gaze. Alya’s skin feels tight, she feels properly embarrassed, almost chastised by the truth. “I’ll see you later, Alya.” he steps past her, taking long strides down the steps as he heads towards his car. Alya watches him disappear into the car and leave. There’s a sinking feeling in her chest as the sleek black vehicle pulls into traffic and drives away from view. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” a new voice chimes in, breaking the silence. “that was almost painful to watch.” Startled, Alya turns to her right and sees Chloe standing there. Her arms are crossed, a pitying expression on her face as she shakes her head.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you been standing there?” Alya asks, eyes darting around. She hopes no one else picked up on their conversation. Luckily, no one else seems to be paying attention to them. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty much the whole time.” Chloe responds nonchalantly. Her posture relaxes somewhat and Alya turns to walk off. She doesn’t want to deal with Chloe right now. “I don’t know what you expected from him, he’s not exactly a friend of anyone in the classroom.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya’s eyes widen in shock and she rears back, offended. “That’s mean, Chloe.” she bites out. “I thought you were his friend.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I’am</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Chloe snips back just as fiercely. “That’s the point. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>friend, but that’s it. Adrien doesn’t connect with anyone else. It’s like...if you hung out with Juleka, Rose, Mylene and Marinette, right? But Mylene added another friend to the group. Sure, you’d be nice to them but you wouldn’t exactly get along with them the same way you would get along with Mylene, because you don’t know them very well yet. Make sense?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya blinks. “Uh...Um, I guess?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chloe gives a single nod, like a teacher explaining math equations to a dim-witted student. “That’s what Adrien is to everyone else. He’s an outsider, even now.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not an outsider.” Alya defends, feeling worse by the second. “He’s just...busy, that’s all.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, Chloe gives her a pointed look. It manages to be both conceited and angry at the same time. “If he wasn’t, you would’ve noticed that he’s been basically M.I.A. from your little ‘group’ since last month.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well...what about Nino?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chloe snorts like a temperamental bull. “That hardly counts. Even with Nino permanently attached to his side, I’d doubt he’d know Adrien any better. I’m the only one who really knows Adrien, and he still doesn’t tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>going on with him.” there’s a strange expression coming over Chloe’s face, and she appears thoughtful for a moment before it’s replaced by her usual patronizing look. “If you want to get closer to Adrien, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya opens up her mouth to retort, but Chloe turns on her heel and saunters off, leaving Alya alone with her thoughts. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya lays on her bed, clutching one of her throw pillows as she stares at her T.V. There’s some cheesy reality show playing that Alya isn’t fully paying attention to. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know what you expected from him, he’s not exactly a friend of anyone in the classroom.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya’s eyes flicker to her phone, her earlier conversation with Chloe running circles around her head no matter how hard she tries to suppress it. She hates to admit it, but Chloe had a point. Adrien was an outsider in a lot of ways. More often than not, he spent time away from everyone else. Only on a rare occasion was Adrien permitted to spend time with his friends, and even then, he was on a time restraint. Interactions with him outside of school were normally brief. Alya remembers all the times she spent during school breaks and summer, every after school meet up with Marinette and the others. Adrien was usually absent or just outside on the perimeter, as if an invisible barrier prevented him from truly cementing himself into the group. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was really, really sad. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But what was she supposed to do? Alya couldn’t exactly go up to Mr. Agreste and demand he give Adrien more time to spend with his friends. She wasn’t even sure if she had his number. Sighing, Alya grabs her notebook, the one she’s been using to write down questions for her interview tomorrow, and opens to a fresh page. She’s incredibly nervous despite her numerous talks with Marinette, and goes over her questions for the umpteenth time. Her outfit is already laid out and hanging on the back of her closet. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya clicks her pen and leans back onto her pillows. She can’t concentrate on Chat Noir now, the image of Adrien giving her that lonely, sad look was still fresh in her mind and she couldn’t shake it. She’d never seen him that way before and it made her chest tighten. Alya was as loyal as could be, and the fact that she had basically been neglecting the glaringly obvious about a friend was hard for her to deal with. There were so many things about Adrien Agreste that she just </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t know. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was his favorite color? His favorite subject in school? What about his taste in music? Alya glanced at her t.v., did he enjoy bad reality shows as much as she did? These were basic facts that she couldn’t answer. Alya clicked her pen again before shutting her notebook. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, she wasn’t one to just roll over and give up. Alya was going to make better friends with Adrien no matter what.  She was going to make him feel included, not just with her, but with the rest of the class. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you want to get closer to Adrien, you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya turns her </span>
  <span>t.v.</span>
  <span> off.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Friday evening approaches much faster than Alya would’ve liked. She eyes her alarm clock for possibly the tenth time in five minutes before standing in front of the mirror again. She’s wearing her appropriately dubbed “Smart Girl Look,” jeans with her argyle sweater vest underneath a white blouse. Her hair is pulled back by a purple headband and Alya subconsciously brushes at her bangs. She feels more professional than if she went about in one of her regular shirts and sweatpants, but that doesn’t quell the rising sense of inadequacy. She feels completely lost on what to do despite practicing in the mirror throughout the week. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya had told her parents beforehand that she would be busy in her room and not to disturb her. For good measure, she put a sign up on her front door and made sure that the twins were occupied with cartoons so they wouldn’t come barging in like usual. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya turned to the clock again. 4:58. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She breathes out, shaking her hands as if she were preparing for a run and didn’t want to get cramps. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Snap out of it, Alya,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You're confident, charming and</span>
  </em>
  
  <em>
    <span>intelligent. You’ve prepared for </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>this;</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> you can do this--</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a knock on her balcony window and Alya nearly jumps a foot in the air. She swivels around, pulling her sweater vest down a touch before running her hands down her pants. She’s already sweating. She can’t do this. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another knock, and Alya squares her shoulders before going to the window and opening it. Chat Noir is perched on her balcony, sitting neatly around the blooming tulips in their flower boxes. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Greetings, Alya.” he purrs. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right on time, kitty.” she says, grateful that her voice doesn’t give away her nerves. Chat Noir gives her a puzzled look. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kitty?” he replies, and Alya freezes. Shoot! She only calls him “Kitty” when she’s Rena Rouge. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah! I just...I just thought it’d be a cute nickname for you.” she stutters out. “I can call you something else if you want...you know what? Never mind. Why don’t you come in?” Alya turns away from the window, pressing a hand to her face in embarrassment. She was such a dork! Why couldn’t she just relax? If Chat Noir noticed how tense she is, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he climbs into her bedroom with ease and takes a look around. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your room is nice.” he remarks, and Alya turns around, pulling out her desk chair for him. It’s a strange scene, having Chat Noir among her floral blankets and peach wallpaper. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Alya motions for him to sit and sits on her bed, pulling out her phone to record the conversation. “Ready to get started?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup,” Chat Noir leans back, relaxing in the seat. “lay it on me.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Alya focuses on her notes, feeling her stomach clench again. “First, let’s start with the basics. How are you feeling today?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty good.” he responds. “Then again, my mood always lifts when I’m in the company of pretty girls.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya feels her face heat up. “You’re quite the charmer.” she replies. “I thought you only flirted with Ladybug.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh, what can I say? I’m a creature of habit.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you always this confident?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not usually. I think it comes with the costume. It’s a lot easier to feel good about yourself when you’re capable of doing things no one else can. Knowing you can help protect lives and keep people safe, in a way that goes beyond what a police officer or an emergency responder can do...it feels pretty good.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure.” Alya smiles. “But that comes with pressure, doesn’t it?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, definitely.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you deal with that?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir gives a hapless laugh. “I don’t really? It’s complicated. So far, I haven’t gone through any real casualties with this job. I’ve come close, but Ladybug and I have always managed to get the job done without something really bad happening. People are counting on us, so I can’t afford to mess up.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and Ladybug make a pretty good team. Have you always had a good relationship?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty much, yeah. Rarely ever do we argue, we just know each other too well, y’know? But we can disagree sometimes.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“On what, if I may ask?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir shrugs, eyes downcast in thought. “Mainly about strategy when it comes to capturing an akuma. Ladybug likes to plan ahead; she can be incredibly perceptive when she needs to be. I usually let my emotions get in the way of seeing the bigger picture.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Emotions like what?” Alya asks. “Anger? Panic?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, those. But it’s more...protectiveness?” his voice tilts as if he’s asking a question.  “I want Ladybug to be safe.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you often afraid for her when it comes to saving Paris?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir nods, then, realizing there’s no camera, speaks. “Yes. Her job is a lot more difficult than mine. She’s the only one capable of purifying </span>
  <span>akuma’s</span>
  <span> and setting things back to normal. She’s more than capable of handling herself, but still.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you able to balance your superhero life and your normal one?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir crosses his legs. “Yeah, I can. At first, superhero work was all I thought about, but that’s not really healthy. I’ve learned to balance them both out </span>
  <span>equally</span>
  <span> so I’m not stressing out about one or the other.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you prefer one over the other?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really.” Chat Noir gives a short laugh, and it sounds strangely sad. “I find that both of them are the same in one sense.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya perks up, interested. “What other sense would that be?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir trails off, distant. Alya waits for him to respond. “I guess they both feel rather...”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lonely?” she guesses, voice so soft that she can barely hear herself, but Chat Noir nods. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you find that loneliness comes with being a superhero?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure. I mean, Ladybug is great, don’t get me wrong. I could never be lonely around her, but sometimes I do feel...cut off from everyone else.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you talk more about that?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir flexes his fingers, eyebrows drawn together as he tries to compose his words.  “Aside from being a superhero, there’s not much too me outside of that. Sometimes, I think being Chat Noir is the only interesting thing about me, and that’s not saying much.” He sounds so self-</span>
  <span>deprecating</span>
  <span> that Alya takes pause. She’s never heard him sound like that before. Chat Noir was usually so confident in her eyes, so self-assured. Here, with him practically curled up in her seat, he looks small. Lost, almost. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>So much for starting with the basics.</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure that’s not true.” Alya says, and he merely shrugs. There’s a tense pause for a moment, and Alya glances down at her notes, trying to steer the conversation back on track. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long did it take you to adjust to being a superhero?” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, Chat Noir looks noticeably more relaxed, and his posture softens. “About six months. At first, I was totally freaking out. I had no idea how to use my baton or my cataclysm. Taking down </span>
  <span>akumatized</span>
  <span> civilians was really hard at first. I found myself with more strength in my body, and I didn’t know how to fully exercise restraint in a way that would take them down without hurting them. Leaping over buildings and climbing up roofs was something I practiced in my spare time. It’s really fun now, but I was terrified of doing something wrong and seriously injuring myself.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives a laugh and continues. “I remember the first time I tried to leap from a building. I kept putting it off, y’know? The ground was so far away and it just looked so darn unfriendly. The wind would blow and my knees would start knocking together. One day, I just got so tired of backing out that I climbed to the top of a building and leapt off it without thinking. My instincts kicked in and I managed to snag myself onto the balcony of a bookstore before I hit the ground. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a success, more or less. I was terrified and my heart didn’t return to normal until my feet touched the ground. But I wasn’t scared anymore. After that, I got more comfortable with flinging myself around in the air. The baton is like an extension of myself, and I can trust myself enough to use it while I’m in mid-air and know without a doubt that I’m going to land correctly.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds great.” Alya whispers, enthralled. She remembered the first time she went leaping from rooftop to rooftop as Rena Rouge and knows exactly what he’s talking about. The rush of the air, the thrill of being completely disconnected from the Earth for a short moment before gravity did its job. It was an adrenaline rush of the greatest kind. Alya clears her throat, shaking her head loose of those fond memories and glances at her questions. “Is there anything about you that you’d want others to know?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir takes pause, his belt moving back and forth like a cat’s tail. Alya had never noticed that before, and finds herself distracted by it for a moment. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess I just want people to be patient with me.” he finally responds. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not so great when it comes to my people skills, and it’s something I’m steadily working on. I need people to know that I’m not nearly as charismatic or open in my real life than </span>
  <span>I’am</span>
  <span> as Chat Noir, but I’m trying to be.”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think that’s what people want?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so.” he replies, voice small. His green eyes are focusing on her carpet. “Would you?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alya bites her bottom lip, her chest tightening. “I think...I think you’re great as is, Chat.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks up at her then, blinking in surprise. It’s as if he never considered the notion of someone just </span>
  <em>
    <span>liking him</span>
  </em>
  <span> before. It reminds Alya of when she first asked him to have an interview. He seemed surprised that she would want to talk with just him and not Ladybug. Chat Noir’s self-esteem issues ran a lot deeper than Alya ever expected them to. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One last question.” she says. “Are you happy, Chat Noir?”</span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chat Noir gives her a smile, though it lacks its usual vibrant luster. “I’m trying to be.” </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, Alya lays in bed, staring up at her ceiling. </span>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The </span>
  <span>Ladyblog</span>
  <span> isn’t updated. She turns her phone off.</span>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i have this headcanon that adrien is sort of lonely despite having nino and ladybug around. the poor kid has little social skills and his life is full of things demanding his attention. </p>
<p>the ending is lame i know. i had a hard time wrapping this chapter up. also, i apologize. i'm uploading this super late, but today has been really busy and i spent most of my time going back and completely re-writing most of this chapter. still, i hope you all like it. next week, i'll be sure to post chapter 3 at a much earlier time. enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i don't know where "wielder of the lover's pen" came from. i just thought it was a clever title. do you like the first chapter? there aren't nearly enough alya/adrien fics out there which is a shame because this couple is cute and quite frankly, has a lot of potential. enjoy!</p>
<p>updates are on tuesdays!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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